Simpson sails south

A view of what could be the northwest coast shoreline on a quiet day, with a sandy and grassy beach in foreground, and high hills beyond that plunge into the sea. 

In this final post in this series, Sir George Simpson sails south from Fort McLoughlin to Fort Nisqually. The day on which he arrived at Fort McLoughlin was October 6, 1841. On October 7, he is at Safety Cove, Calvert Island, waiting to cross Queen Charlotte Sound to Shushady Harbour, on north Vancouver’s Island. On what appears to be October 9 and 10 he is at Port McNeill; on October 11 he and his ship pass by a Comox village; on the 12th the Beaver anchors in a small bay somewhere on the west side of Quadra Island. Why do I know all these dates? I’ve already written this post once and then accidentally deleted everything but the word “literally.” Infuriating, indeed, but this sometimes in WordPress, and there is no way to recover the blog (so far as I know) once accidentally deleted! 

So, we begin again. What the accidental deletion does mean is that I have already figured out all the dates where Sir George was supposedly at the places he said he was, and there are two days left over. So now I know I don’t have to worry too much about them, and that I can get it close to right, but not exactly right! This is why he never gave dates in his book, An Overland Journey Round the World. He couldn’t remember them.

So we will begin this with: sometime around October 7, or maybe October 8, Simpson and his party, who are travelling home to Fort Vancouver from their jaunt up the northwest coast to Sitka, are at anchor in Safety Cove, on Calvert Island. This is what Governor Simpson has to say. 

Leaving Fort McLoughlin next morning we were obliged, by four in the afternoon, to take refuge for the night in Safety Cove on Calvert’s Island, by reason of our being unable to reach any other known shelter with daylight. After anchoring, I amused myself, as was my custom, by fishing, my ordinary prey being halibut, rock cod, flounders, &c &c. In this neighbourhood, I noticed what was to me a very remarkable phenomenon, a sea-weed growing to the surface from a depth of thirty or forty fathoms.

So they anchored in Safety Cove late in the day, but not so late that Sir George could not go fishing, and could not discover the kelp beds. And yes, he is probably jigging for cod, which is how we always fished for rock cod when I lived on Cortes Island. Halibut is found in our local waters too, as are several varieties of flounder. And the kelp beds is exactly where you find all of these fish!

On the next day, the steamer Beaver faced the open waters of Queen Charlotte Sound. When I say “open waters,” that means they are open to the wind and waves of the northern Pacific Ocean: in fact, the next land mass to the west is Japan! In his book, An Overland Journey Round the World, Simpson says, “Next day, after being once driven back to Calvert’s Island, we succeeded, on a second attempt, in crossing the grand traverse, already mentioned as the only exposed part of the coast, to Shushady Harbour in Vancouver’s Island. As the swell of the ocean was here met by a high wind from the shore, no fewer than ten of our crew and passengers were laid up with sea-sickness. During the squalls, the paddles made seventeen revolutions in a minutes; but during the lulls, they accomplished twenty-two.” Obviously, Simpson was keeping a good eye on the Beaver‘s performance, as she was a very important part of the plans he had made for the northwest coast. His comment ended with the words: “The proportions of actual speed, however, were very different, two or three miles an hour in the one case, and six or seven in the other.”

I suspect that the Beaver steamed all day, and all the next night, to make it to Shusady Harbour, and that is where one of our two days has gone missing. I know that when the Beaver went up the coast, whether with James Douglas in 1840, or (perhaps) Simpson in 1841, she steamed all night to reach Fort McLoughlin.

Simpson’s thoughts continued: he thought it would be a good idea to establish a fishery at the north end of Vancouver’s Island. As proof of the local First Nations’ industry (the Newettees, according to Simpson), Simpson said, “they brought to us in the evening some wood that they had themselves cut for us during our absence.” They would have traded the wood for tobacco or other goods. The Beaver also stopped to “wood and water” in this bay. Date? Night of October 8-9, or October 9-10. 

In spite of the deluge of rain that fell during the night and morning, our wooding and watering were completed, the ladies lending their assistance, while the gentlemen were engaged in trading. A little after sunset, we anchored in front of a village of Quakeolths [Kwakiutl]. We were soon visited by twelve or fifteen canoes… At the request of the chief we consented to remain till the next day for the purpose of trading.

By “ladies,” Simpson meant the First Nations women.

Before daybreak the vessel was surrounded by about fifty canoes… After a great deal of noise and negotiation, we procured a small quantity of inferior furs, blankets being, as usual, the grand equivalent. The Quakeolths, as well as the Newetees, had long been anxious that we should form a permanent establishment among them. But the mysterious steamer, against which neither calms nor contrary winds were any security, possessed, in our estimation, this advantage over stationary forts, that, besides being as convenient for the purposes of trade, she was the terror, whether present or absent, of every tribe on the coast.

Ah, the magic of the steamer, which could sail against the wind or even if there was no wind! The HBC men often used “modern” technology to impress the First Nations they dealt with: for example, and James Robert Anderson (son of A.C. Anderson) said:

On dismounting, the first duty was to light a fire and for this purpose the flint and steel were altogether used, as matches were non-obtainable in those days; the few that I had seen were looked upon as curiosities and only used on very rare occasions as an exhibition of the white man’s power amongst the natives.

Magic! Governor Simpson’s journal continues:

Starting at two in the afternoon, we were soon obliged, in consequence of the distance of any other harbour, to anchor for the night in a small bay, into which a pretty stream emptied itself. The wooding and watering, as usual, commenced, while, by way of varying the evening’s amusements, we ourselves made an unsuccessful attack on the ducks and plovers… 

At this time they are anchored on the west side of Quadra Island, but north of the narrows and of Ripple Rock. “About three in the afternoon [of the next day] we entered the whirlpools of Johnston’s Straits, the water being tolerably smooth, and had got down nearly abreast of Point Mudge, when we became enveloped in a fog, nearly abreast of Point Mudge…” Cape Mudge is the south end of Quadra Island, opposite the town of Campbell River today. “We became enveloped in a fog, nearly abreast of Point Mudge, which in density surpassed anything of the kind that I ever saw out of London. Under these circumstances, to advance along a channel of only two miles in width was impossible; and accordingly, slackening the speed of the engine, we endeavored to grope our way out of the strength of the current to an anchorage on the shore of Vancouver’s Island [where Campbell River is today.] After a few casts of the lead without finding bottom, we soon got into twelve, eleven, ten and eight fathoms, and thinking that we were now quite near enough, we backed out again and dropped the small bower in eighteen fathoms. We then dragged over a rocky bottom, paying out gradually seventy-five fathoms, while the tide was running up from twelve to fourteen knots an hour; and at last we dropped the best bower, which jerked over the ground to such a degree as to endanger the windlass. About half past six [in the evening] the best bower held with its chain as stiff as a bar, whereas the small bower, of which the chain was slack was supposed to be broken or parted. We now plucked up courage to take tea, supposing ourselves secure for the night; but about nine, the vessel again began to drag for an hour or so, till the tide slackened. Immediately on stopping, we attempted to heave in the small bower without, however, being able to raise a single link. About eleven at night we repeated the effort; and, after fifty minutes of hard labour, we got hold of our small bower all dislocated and shattered.”

So the small bow anchor was broken. It was midnight. The next day, “about noon, we dragged again over sand, running out into the gulf with the ebb tide. Soon afterwards our sand was succeeded by rock, when we felt a jerk, which made us all suppose that the vessel had struck. The cause of the shock was soon suspected. Down to this time the anchor, as it scraped and thumped against the bottom, had been very distinctly heard from the poop, as if it was astern instead of being five hundred feet ahead; but now we discerned nothing but the clanking of the chain, as it rattled along the inequalities of the ground. In a word, we had every reason to believe, that we had lost our best bower.”

So, this is where I lost one of my days in my previous post, as this is happening over two days — probably October 12, October 13, and/or October 14. It was still foggy; they still could not see where they were. About three in the afternoon of the later day (Oct. 13 or Oct. 14), they drifted into deep water. At 4pm they glimpsed land, supposedly Cape Mudge, “while we were reeling wildly out into the gulf, the mere sport of the whirlpools. About six in the evening, the wind, shifting from northeast to southeast, dispersed the fog; and after our poor fellows had been toiling at the windlass for nearly an hour and a half, they verified our fears by bringing up the chain without the anchor, leaving us in the enviable condition at this boisterous season. Getting up steam, we hoped to reach the anchorage between Sangster’s Island [I think Sangster’s Island might be Lasquiti] and Fevada [Texada] Islands, with the view of procuring a new stock for our small bower; but our southeaster soon  began to blow so hard as to make us bear away for Beware Harbour at the north end of Fevada; and there we rendered ourselves as snug as possible for the night by dropping our small bower with some temporary repairs and our stream [?] and kedge lashed together.”

In fact, there is a Fevada Point or Bay on Texada Island, almost exactly opposite Lasquiti. I think that must be where the Beaver wooded on her way up the coast, and the place where they planned to anchor if they could reach it.

So, how did they do? From the bottom west side of Cape Mudge, these men steamed south and east for Texada Island. They began their journey south at about 8 pm: in October, that is after dark. True: the current would have been much less in the open waters of Georgia Strait [Salish Sea] than it was in Johnston’s Straits: although they still had to allow for the strength of the tide, as well as the tidal rip around Mitlenatch Island.

But do you want to know how many reefs there are in that patch of sea? First, there is a long wide reef off the bottom of Quadra Island. Its name is Wilby Shoals, and it extends a few miles into the Gulf of Georgia [now Salish Sea.] Well south and east of that is Mitlenatch Island, which has rocks to the north of it. There are reefs south of Hernando Island which connect it to Savary Island [The reefs or shoals are located in what is now called Manson Passage. Manson was the first settler on Cortes Island, by the way.] South of Savary Island is another reef called Stradiotti Reef. Then there is Mystery Reef, which also leads off Savary Island — and to the west there is Grant Reefs. You have to sail between Mystery Reef and Grant Reef to make it to Texada Island! Vivian Island lies straight ahead: today it has an enormous light house on it, but in those the light house did not exist. To the east is Harwood Island, which seems reasonably safe. But at the top end of Texada Island, there are also rocks and reefs, and Rebecca Island lurks. [That’s why they called it Beware Harbour!]

Nevertheless, if one steered a straight line from Cape Mudge, south east toward Texada Island’s north end, with a slight jog in the middle, one would probably miss every single one of these rocky dangers! 

We will remember that Captain William Henry McNeill is sailing with Captain George Vancouver’s old charts. They must be very accurate, because the Beaver made it into what is now Blubber Bay, at the top end of Texada Island. When? Simpson says, merely, that “we rendered ourselves as snug as possible for the night by dropping our small bower….” I suspect it was very late at night — probably the early morning of October 14-15. You will see why I say that, below.

The Beaver remained at Beware Harbour for two days, wooding and watering. Then, “On the second day thereafter, being Sunday the seventeenth of October, we had a beautiful run with smooth water and fine weather. We passed close along Whidbey’s Island, being about forty miles long… We anchored for the evening about five miles to the south of this island; and, by making a very early move, we breakfasted ashore at Nisqually about five in the morning.” If they steamed past Whidbey’s Island on October 17, they anchored five miles south of it on the night of October 17-18. Early in the morning of October 18, they made Fort Nisqually. Four and a half days later, on October 22, Governor Simpson and his small party of men arrived at Fort Vancouver. 

To return to the first part of this journey from Fort Nisqually to the northwest coast, go here: https://nancymargueriteanderson.com/simpson-on-the-beaver/ 

If I continue this journey west to the Sandwich Islands and north again to Sitka (to find out what happened to poor Thomas Lowe, who acted as Sir George’s secretary), it will appear here: https://nancymargueriteanderson.com/whatever-i-call-it/ 

And here is Dr. John McLoughlin at Fort Vancouver in 1841, which tells what happened after Simpson returned to headquarters: https://nancymargueriteanderson.com/john-mcloughlin/ 

Copyright, Nancy Marguerite Anderson, 2025. All rights reserved.

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